From the poetry collection published in 2021 containing poems written in 2020, The Immediate and No Sooner.
Tanka 203
10/1/20
the links jangle in
a restless twist together
a pattern of sound
formed by two colors of yarn –
I hear as my needles work
Tanka 204
10/2/20
Get the holey spoon
that’s what we used to call it.
Get the holey spoon
and holy green peas! drain them
with this wholly useful spoon
Tanka 205
10/2/20
get me some of that
brown rough string bind me up some
tomato plants on
green stakes I got lined up here –
I’ll grow me vines to the sky.
Tanka 206
10/9/20
Rough twine wraps itself
neat around a cardboard core
ties a lucky knot
when it wants to. Your fingers
tease it into a good mood.
Claudia McGill Writes Poetry, Did You Know That? 
Holey spoon…I like that. (K)
That’s really what we always called it. I have a nice big red holey spoon now but in childhood it was metal and got bent…
I have a metal one but only a black plastic one. Red would brighten things up.
Oddly enough, your poems conjured up memories for me of both of my maternal grandparents. My beloved Granddad was an excellent gardener and I often helped him out in his greenhouse. Your description of the brown twine and the tomato vines brought back the smell memory of the tomatoes in the humid air. Meanwhile, my Gran was a prolific and very speedy knitter and I very much associate that clacking sound of needles with her.
That is interesting. These are both activities of mind, the tomatoes and the knitting, and I don’t associate them with anyone – but I know what you mean, when I smell Old SPice or Tide detergent – I think of my grandparents – smell memory as you say!